AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“When this is all over,” Andrey promises, “I’ll make some of your imaginings come true.”
My heart flutters at the sweetness of his words, but deep down, I know they are empty promises. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warn him, a wry smile playing on my lips.
Andrey’s expression darkens. “I promised you more freedom after the twins were born,” he reminds me, his voice hardening. “Are you saying I’m not a man of my word?”
“I’m saying that we both know that once this is over and we’re no longer on the run, you’ll go back to being Andrey Belov, the big bad controlling Bratva boss.” My gaze shifts past him, locking onto a shop window filled with colorful baby clothes. “And once you retake your throne, where does that leave me...” My words trail off, my thoughts picking up where they left off: as just another one of your possessions?
“You’re my wife,” Andrey declares. “Isabella Belov, my queen.”
“I never wanted to be a queen,” I tell him. “I just wanted to be Isabella exploring the world and trying to figure out my place in it.”
“Your place is with me,” Andrey insists. “And as a mother to our babies.”
My eyes return to the baby shop window. My mind screams at me—What I want is no longer as important as the life growing inside me. Everything I do now is to keep them safe and ensure they have a good life.
“I don’t know.” My voice drops, my hands splaying over my belly. “I want to try.”
“Then give me a year after the twins are born,” Andrey says. “Let’s see if we can make it work.”
“I’ve been in your world for eight weeks, and all I’ve done is run from a faceless enemy that’s after my mother’s legacy and our babies,” I remind him. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Let me show you that not all of our world is as dark as it seems.” His voice is soft and enticing. His eyes darken with a primal desire. “But you’ll need to trust my way of doing things to completely immerse yourself in our world.”
“What if I can’t?”
Andrey stares at me, his eyes intense, as if trying to see into my soul. I really hope he can’t because if he knew what was going on in there, he’d lock me in a room until our babies were born.
“For our unborn children’s sake, at least try,” he implores. “I’m trying, Isabella. Trying to give you enough space to breathe and ease you into this life.”
“Ease me into this life?” My eyes widen. “I’ve been on the run since I found out who I was.”
“Sometimes being thrown into the deep end is the best way to learn to swim,” Andrey points out.
“I don’t feel like I’m being taught to swim,” I tell him. “I feel like I’ve gone from one prison cell to another.”
Andrey’s eyes fill with emotion and a hint of anger at my words. “Is that how you see our life together?” he asks, his tone accusing. “As a prison?”
My heart aches, looking into his eyes. “Isn’t it?” I reply honestly, feeling conflicted and torn inside. “All I ever get are empty promises of freedom as a way of controlling me. My entire life, and even now, I feel like I’m serving a life sentence.” My jaw clenches. “I guess at least now I know why—for being born a Moretti—a mafia princess and now a Pakhan’s wife.”
The moment those words leave my lips, I see a flicker of hurt in Andrey’s eyes. His jaw tightens, and without a word, he grips my wrist and pulls me along the sidewalk, his pace brisk and determined.
The cool evening air whips around us, carrying the scent of the city—a mix of car exhaust, street food, and the faintest hint of blooming flowers from a nearby park.
“Andrey, where are we going?” I ask, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.
“Back to the hotel,” he responds, his voice a low growl. “If you want me to trust you, give you more freedom.” He stops and turns to me. “Then you need to trust me. Trust has to be a two-way thing, or it means nothing.”
We reach the hotel quickly, his grip on my wrist never loosening. He practically drags me through the lobby, ignoring the curious glances of other guests. He slams the elevator button, and the door dings open instantly.
We step inside, and as soon as the doors slide shut, Andrey pushes me against the wall, his body pressing into mine. He cups my face, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “I’ve seen the darkness in you, Isabella. I’ve touched it. I feel it quiver through you every time I fuck you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Give in to it and submit yourself to me. Let me teach you my ways.”
His hands roam over my body, and I feel his hard cock pressing firmly against my stomach, sending shivers through me. “Oh, God,” I gasp, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Why is it that every time you touch me, I start to burn?”
“Because we have chemistry,” Andrey growls, his hands squeezing my breasts through the soft material of my dress, the lace of my bra rubbing tantalizingly against my nipples. “There are all kinds of freedom, Isabella. Let me help you discover yours.”
“What other kind of freedom is there?” I ask, my fingers tangling in his thick hair as I pull him closer, needing more of him.
“Freedom to be yourself, to explore paths you never thought possible, unshackled by societal norms.” He grinds his hips into me, his arousal moving rhythmically against me.
